


Trail of Dust

by thatonepersoneveryonehates



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Sad Ending, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonepersoneveryonehates/pseuds/thatonepersoneveryonehates
Summary: How can a child destroy everything that they hold dear, and not even shed a tear of remorse?





	Trail of Dust

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while on an airplane half asleep. This is really sad, and I have no clue why I wrote it, but I'm sure that some people will like it, so, have a present!

The monster in front of them crumbled away into dust. A dust that could clearly be seen covering the landscape and the child.

'Only a few are left,' The child thought, brushing some of the dust off of them as they walked on. Their feet were weary because they had refused to stop or slow down since they began this crusade. 'And then this world's suffering will end.'

That's what the child told themselves as they walked. That was the motivation that drove them forward on this destructive path.

But in all honesty, they knew it wasn't true. They knew that they were needlessly destroying their home and their friends because of a vendetta that they had against the humans. A vendetta they had against life, and the cards they had been given when they were born.

The angry words of their peers came back as they slashed their way through another monster.

'Your ugly!' 'You don't even know how to do anything right.' 'You should just kill yourself.'

The vile words of their parents came back as well.

'How could I have such a worthless child.' 'Just go away you demon spawn.'

A psychotic smile stained their lips when they cut down another one. The light in their eyes angry, vengeful, full of hate.

The child was on a path of destruction, and no one could stop them. They killed everything that fell into their path. The blade in their hands was stained with dust. Nothing was spared.

But, when they stopped to think a moment. When they thought about what they were doing, when they were questioned by their friends, they broke a little. Their mask of hate, their determination wavered.

Yet, they continued on. They strengthened their determination, and picked up their blade again, and pushed onward. They left a trail of dust in their wake.

When at last they stood at the end, the king before them, speaking. His words didn't meet their ears. They slashed and he fell. More dust to add, like blood, to the child's hands.

Then, a golden flower waved in front of them. A smile just as wide as theirs etched onto its face. But the smile wavered. The flower spoke.

"It was all a trick. I was just waiting to kill him for you. I promise. I can be useful to you. I am your best friend after all." 

Chara took a small step forward. The flower trembled and gazed up at his friend, "P-please d-d-don't kill me."

The wail echoed down the corridors, shock flitted through Chara. They blinked, and for the first time since they started this crusade, they felt an emotion besides anger. Longing, love.

They longed to spare the flower and live underground with all of the people that they loved. With friends and family. They looked at the knife in their hand, trying to reason with the thoughts flowing through their head.

With a firm shake, they brought the knife down. They beat and slashed, and destroyed. The vibrant golden petals withered and fell to the dust covered ground.

It was over. They had won. They just needed to destroy the six human souls the king had gained, and then destroy the underground.

But then, why did it hurt so much. Why did their chest ache,  their head spin, their stomach swirl. The mask they wore cracked, and then shattered, revealing the child beneath.

 Tears washed trails down the dust coating their face. Pain, heartache, grief, they clouded the child's conscious along with guilt. Sobs wracked Chara's body and they clutched their hands to their chest, the knife lay forgotten a few feet away. 

They called out for someone, anyone. For anyone to help.

.

.

.

.

*But nobody came.


End file.
